Diaphragmatic Dilemmas
by pingipenguin
Summary: Grown men don't get hiccups ... at least, that's what Joel wants Ellie to believe. Rated T for general swears, Ellie swears, the usual.


_**Standard Disclaimer: **__I don't own _'The Last Of Us'_, which makes me sad._

**o~O~o**

"Hey, Joel! See anything yet?"

Empty. His stomach was so empty. Empty, like the dark expanse of cabinet laughing in his face. Joel snapped the door shut with a frustrated growl.

"Nuthin' worth takin'," he called to Ellie, who was searching the adjacent room. She loosed a colossal groan.

"Aw, _man_. That's the fifth house in a row!"

Joel sighed and leant against the battered wood, running a hand down his face and beard. He heard the soft footfalls that heralded Ellie's approach and lifted his gaze to meet her's as she sunk, sullenly, into the room, hitching her pack further up her shoulders. She wore a very sour look.

"I'm fucking _starving_."

"I know, I know, I am too," Joel said. He had to clamp down the impulse to rebuke her choice of words. Usually, Ellie's toilet mouth didn't go a long way to bothering him, but being as hungry as he was had whittled his short fuse down to a stub. He rubbed the back of his neck and glared at the floor. "Look, I know it ain't ideal, but we'll come across somethin' sooner or later. We always do."

"But what if we _don't_ this time?" Ellie whined, scuffing the dirty carpet with her equally dirty shoe. "What if we search and search and in years to come when they've found a vaccine and the world isn't shit anymore they find our corpses and say to each other, '_What brand of monumental fuckwits were these two, leaving Jackson without packing any decent provisions_?'" Her stomach growled, long and low, and with a hiss of frustration Ellie clapped a hand over it. "Fuck!"

"Watch your mouth!" Joel snarled, unable to take it any longer. He pushed off the armoire in a blaze of sudden rage, barging out the room and down the stairs with a face as black as thunder, muttering mutinously under his breath. _Jesus fucking Christ. Could it _get _any worse than this?_

Ellie padded after him. As usual, Joel's outburst had failed to rankle her. "So what now?"

"We try the next house."

"And if that's empty?"

"Then we try the next one."

"And if _that's_ empty?"

"Are you determined to be fuckin' miserable today?" Joel snapped, rounding on her. Ellie gave a lazy shrug.

"Are _you_?"

"I'm askin' the questions here," Joel said shortly. He shouldered open the back door and ushered Ellie into the yard. Evening was drawing soft folds around the world and on its back rode the fading warmth of summer. Ellie shivered and ducked to pull a coat from her backpack. Joel rubbed vigorously along his forearms.

"Okay, then," Ellie said once the jacket was in place. She slipped her gun from her waistband. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Joel replied, reaching for his bow. As usual, he'd take point. Joel boosted Ellie over the fence barring the next house from sight before scaling it himself, landing cat-like amidst a tangle of overgrown ferns and what he _seriously_ hoped wasn't poison ivy. An itchy rash would be the icing atop this spectacularly shitty day.

"_Leaves of three, leave it be_," Ellie intoned. Joel realised he'd been brushing himself down quite nervously and, irritated, pushed past her and towards the black face of the house. A screen door of glass barred his way forwards. When he couldn't drag it sideways, Joel used the butt of his gun to smash it. The resultant _crsshh_ was very satisfying.

"Y'know, if I did that, you'd never let me hear the end of it," Ellie said as she followed Joel into the house's dank interior. "I thought the aim of the game was to make as little noise as possible?"

"It is, but not when I'm playin' it." Joel snapped his flashlight on. The surrounds it illuminated were very well off; clearly, the once-people who lived here must've been rolling in cash. Carefully, they rounded plush sofas and chairs, teak coffee tables and the remains of a plasma to a door which, on closer inspection, was locked. Joel slipped a shiv into place and jimmied it open.

"Oh, man. You gotta teach me how to do that."

"Stay alert," he said. The door opened outwards; after checking for spores they crept around it, pulling it gently to behind them when their ears and flashlights informed them that no Infected were crouched beyond. Joel felt his breath catch in his chest when he saw not one, but two, piles of canned peaches in the corner, with the shelves lining the walls bowed beneath the weight of rubbing alcohol they bore. Clearly, the room had once been used as a study, but after the outbreak some clever bastard must have used it as a storeroom. Judging by the cobwebs lining the light fitting it hadn't been disturbed in some time.

Well, it was going to pay dividends now.

"Holy shit …" Ellie breathed, making straight for the peach piles. Without waiting for Joel she tore the lid off one and downed the contents enthusiastically enough to send juice spitting over the surrounding cans. Growling, Joel made for the pile and claimed a tin for himself.

"Hey, hey, leave some for me."

"Cab't tawlk, Joewl; I'b earrterng." Had he not known better Joel would have sworn he was sharing his space with a wild, exceedingly ravenous boar. Chuckling, he mussed Ellie's hair and pried the lid off his can.

"Watch you don't get hiccups."

A grunt was Ellie's only reply. A more redundant part of Joel habitually checked the use-by date before downing the peaches; they'd expired some eighteen years previous, but in that instant, were the single best thing he'd ever tasted. Gasping, Joel reached for another can, then another, determined to fill his moaning belly as much as possible. When it became apparent that one pile wasn't going to be enough for the two of them Ellie moved to the other and worked her was stoically through, until the floor space between them was littered with peach tins. Groaning, Joel leaned back against the wall and wiped his mouth, feeling – for the first time in days – his stomach push against the lining of his jeans. Oh, yes. _That_ was how to do it.

"Oh, man … oh, _fuck_ …" Ellie said, coming to sit alongside him. "Ohh … I think I overdid it. So fucking good, but oh _man _…"

"You gonna spew?"

"Mmm … nope. Nope. Just, ah … just give me a minute."

Joel heard her huffing and belching softly into her hand. He smiled to the darkness. "Just make sure you aim away from me if you do. I ain't got a spare set of clothes."

"Fuck you, man."

They sat in silence for a few more minutes. Joel, for one, could feel his eyelids growing heavy. It seemed so long since they'd left Tommy's on a routine supply run, and longer still since he'd slept. Ellie seemed to have gotten her stomach under control and was a warm presence to his left, her head coming to rest peacefully on his shoulder. Yes. Yes, this was the way to do it. Fuck keeping watch tonight, let them _both_ sleep, let them both –

_Hup_!

Joel unconsciously shied away from Ellie. "I _said_ aim away from me if you're gonna spew."

She eyed him incredulously. "That wasn't me!"

Their eyes, suspended in the gloom, met. Joel frowned. "Then what –"

_Hup_!

His diaphragm itched. Ellie sniggered, her eyes lighting up with mischief.

"Are you hiccupping?"

"_No_," Joel said forcefully. Then, before he could stop himself; "Grown men don't _get_ hiccups."

_Hup_!

Ellie was cackling now. "Then what … what the fuck do you call _that_, then?" Oblivious to Joel's glare she slid down the wall in a fit of mirth. "'_Grown men don't_ …' … aw, man, what a crock of shit!"

"You wanna –_ hup!_ – watch your goddamn mouth?"

"How about you watch yours?"

Tears were streaming down Ellie's face. She doubled over and howled as Joel, face scarlet, dragged a hand down his beard. For once, darkness was a blessing. He could never live this down in broad daylight.

_Hup_!

"You, old man," Ellie announced between breaths, "are fucking _hilarious_. I mean it! Really, you're –"

_CRASH!_

Both of them froze. The sound had come from beyond their little hideaway, betraying the presence of a far more sinister being. Without thinking, Joel snapped off his flashlight and pushed away from the wall, motioning for Ellie to do the same. Together, hearts pounding, breathing ragged, they advanced on the door.

"What is it, d'you think?" Ellie asked a little fearfully.

"I don't – _hup!_ – I don't know," Joel said. He pried the door open a crack, but the dark beyond was too thick to give up its secrets. "I don't think it's Infected, though. Can't hear no clicks or moans."

"Hunters, then?"

"It's possible." Joel stifled another hiccup and reached for his gun. "Stay here. If you hear me shout, or anythin' like a fight breakin' out, barricade the door and stay quiet."

"Joel –"

"It's okay, baby girl. I – _hup!_ – I gotcha."

Then, for fear his softer side would win out, Joel turned his back on Ellie's wide green eyes and slid out into the loungeroom. The oppressive quiet sent shivers down his spine; shivers he repressed as he crawled towards the nearest couch and crouched behind it. Heart pounding, he chanced a peek over the top. A flash of movement in the kitchen, half-hidden behind a sliding door, caught his eye.

_Shit_. _Was that a stalker?_

Joel edged his way out from behind the couch. He cocked his gun and checked the length of the room, waiting for the hunters to seize their chance and start firing at him – at least then he'd know. When nothing definitive happened Joel made a break for the kitchen. As he reached the door a particularly loud hiccup caught in his chest and boomed off the dead household furnishing.

_HUP!_

Cursing, Joel crouched low, preparing to shoot whatever charged through the door point-blank in the chest. He felt illuminated, incandescently alive, a beacon of vitality crouched, waiting, for death to find him. Air clogged and rattled his lungs. Adrenaline urged him to make the first move.

_Okay, you motherfuckers … have at THIS!_

With a hiss of bravado Joel wrenched the door sideways, rolling to avoid the barrage of gunfire or stalker claws he was sure would follow, pistol clenched tight in his trembling hands. An angered shriek rose from the bowels of the pristine kitchen and _something_ flew by his right cheek; yelling, Joel snapped his arm out, catching the whatever-it-was in the chest and sending it flying into the back of the couch. The thing shrieked again and Joel, anticipating another attack, fired a round. There was the dull _thwump_ of metal on flesh, a gargled cry, and then nothing. Daring to breathe again, Joel snapped on his flashlight. He pulled up short at the sight that greeted his eyes.

It was a raccoon. A dirty, stinking raccoon, with a bullet where its eye once was and the remnants of its last meal about its dirty, stinking chops. It must've crept into the kitchen in search of food, found some, knocked something over and scared the living bejesus out of both of them. Joel exhaled in a sharp _whoosh_ and dimly registered Ellie crawling up alongside him despite the very specific instructions he'd given her not to move. Clearly, disobedience was her speciality.

"Nice shot," she quipped dryly, "though, I have to say, wasting ammo on a raccoon is a pretty foolhardy thing to do."

"Ellie –"

"Had one good outcome, though."

Joel eyed her sharply. "What?"

Her toothy grin hung on the night. "Gotcha hiccups pretty good, didn't it?"

**o~O~o**

**A/N: **_**Boosh. I'm on a roll today. This was fun to write; hope it was as much fun to read! **___

_**As always, reviews are welcome. **_


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